<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>don't stop 'til you get enough by IvyPrincess</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27136264">don't stop 'til you get enough</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvyPrincess/pseuds/IvyPrincess'>IvyPrincess</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Warm Bodies Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Love at First Sight, M/M, Zombie Apocalypse, blatant norenmin in the background, there is literally no angst in this</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:27:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,621</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27136264</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvyPrincess/pseuds/IvyPrincess</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark's heart can't beat. It hasn't, for a long while now. But Donghyuck? Donghyuck is <em>alive</em>.</p><p>And you know what they say: true love never dies.</p><p>(Abandoned, but maybe I'll come back to it eventually.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>don't stop 'til you get enough</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i haven't worked on this story since summer of '19. (a lifetime ago, eh?) it was a joint collaboration with my lovely lacie, and i've set it as complete since i think we've both moved on from it (probably mostly my fault, oops). but it seems like people were interested in reading it anyway, so here you go. enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His life is a dull one. Day in and day out, his routine changes about as much as the cracked pavement outside does. He himself isn’t of any interest to anyone either, he thinks sluggishly, shuffling past equally dull people on his way to the dilapidated airport. Sometimes he wishes he had been more approachable, had a larger friend group, maybe even been on a date or two.</p><p>But then he always catches sight of his distorted reflection in one of the few remaining glass panels and remembers. <em>Oh right, I’m dead.</em></p><p>That’s right, the sorry decaying meat sack formerly known as… something he can’t remember right now is a zombie. He glances to the side and accidentally makes eye contact with another woman staggering towards him. If he could still feel anything, he’s sure there would be some kind of mutual understanding that would pass through their gaze, from one blank stare to the other, the kind of acknowledgment tired salarymen give each other on the subway after a long day at the office. But he can’t feel anything anymore, and neither can she.</p><p>Some days, he can’t even remember his name anymore. It helps that there’s one of those “Hello, my name is” stickers stuck to one side of his shirt, “Mark” written in bold lettering. His vocal cords might not work anymore, but maybe muscle memory would let him at least say his own name. “Mnnng,” he grunts, trying it out. Or maybe he just can’t actually produce any other noises.</p><p>Regardless, there’s barely anything Mark can remember from the life he must have lived, if he had really once been human. Maybe he had a family, maybe he <em>did</em> have friends at some point in time, but he kind of doubts it. At the very least, the tattered blue flannel hanging on his frame definitely signifies his unemployment at the time of death.</p><p>Along with the lack of memories about his own life, he really doesn’t remember how or why he’s a living corpse now either. It would bother him, but you know, the lack of ability to feel anything does come in handy sometimes.</p><p>Mark shuffles slowly towards the escalator, knocking into several other corpses on his way. No one bothers to move out of the way, and he doesn’t bother to move out of their way either. The escalator that’s somehow still functioning after all this time carries him to the floor above. There’s more people up here, in the loosest definition of the word.</p><p>Mark glances through the windows on the left. The boneys stare back, crouched over the remains of a corpse. They’ve long since lost their mask of humanity, and it’s impossible to see what kind of person they used to be, nothing clothing the growling skeletons but a few tattered strings of flesh and whatever gross clumps are stuck in their teeth. Ew.</p><p>That’s what happens to corpses after a while, if they lose what little emotion they have left. Mark ambles past them, glancing into the next storefront. Yep, that’s definitely a guy eating his own face off. Eventually, the hunger just becomes unbearable and you turn yourself into a real monster. At least Mark has standards when he eats.</p><p>Mark isn’t looking forward to what’s coming for him. Endless days of boredom wandering through the same halls over and over again until he loses what little semblance of an identity he has left? God, he hopes not. Is he the only one who thinks like this? Does this yearning for some kind of spark exist in any of the other zombies around him? He just wants to feel something, anything besides the growing ache of an insatiable hunger and this grimy mindlessness.</p><p>Mark just wants to live again.</p>
<hr/><p>Mark slumps heavily into a seat at the lounge bar, right next to a corpse with heavy black veins running up his neck and lips the color of a bruise. This is Mark’s best friend. Actually, this is Mark’s only friend. As far as he can tell, this corpse - slightly shorter than him, no less dead - is one of the few zombies who have a faint consciousness in them, just like him. Maybe he’s the only other one.</p><p>It’s not exactly evident, considering that Taeil (the other zombie <em>also</em> has a big, helpful tag on his sweater vest that has “Taeil” written on it, albeit in a much fancier font than Mark’s) spends most of his time alone in this bar, mindlessly wiping the same glass with the same rag over and over again. It’s not exactly a meaningful activity, but it’s more innovative than dragging his feet around outside, and that’s enough for Mark to conclude that Taeil is like him.</p><p>Taeil does other things too, besides wiping the same shot glass for hours on end. (Mark doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he’s only making it dirtier. Mark doesn’t have <em>a</em> heart, period.) Sometimes, like today, Taeil will wander restlessly inside the bar, picking things up and putting them on shelves. It’s not always a reliable indicator, but Mark’s learned that Taeil can sometimes <em>sense</em> when a disturbance is about to hit their mind-numbingly boring little spot. When he does, he gets impatient, moving around a lot more than normal.</p><p>Taeil shuffles back and forth across the bar, knocking over the very bottles that he’d picked up as he wanders around. Mark watches him with keen interest. The last time that Taeil had been this agitated, a whole squad of living soldiers had come, supposedly to clear this area of zombies. They could very well have done so, except that apparently they weren’t aware of the boneys or the distinction between one and a regular old zombie, like Mark. Mark himself had been hesitant to approach the soldiers that day, warily eyeing their massive guns and their confident stances.</p><p>The boneys had no such misgivings.</p><p>It’s almost impossible to snag a bite once the boneys take down their prey, but a couple of soldiers had fled and wandered straight into Taeil’s bar, probably thinking that they’d be safe inside. An indistinct shuffling noise and the sound of bottles being knocked over to the ground were the only warnings they got before the short but powerful zombie pounced on them, easily overpowering them in their defenseless state.</p><p>Another thing that has Mark convinced that Taeil’s sentient, just like him? He saves food for Mark. He’d gone back to the bar dejected, having enviously watched the boneys dispatch the squadron, only to find a freshly deceased corpse waiting for him. Taeil had already finished off one soldier, and he’d gestured at the other one, clearly indicating that it was for Mark.</p><p>If he could have, Mark would have shed a tear. He couldn’t, but he thinks it’s the sentiment that counts, anyway.</p><p>Now, Mark watches as Taeil picks up a pin and a poster on the floor, and proceeds to try and hang it on the wall. This is probably the most nuanced action he’s seen the other zombie do so far, and he’s going at it with surprising focus. Something big is going to happen today, Mark can tell. If he tries, he can almost pretend that he feels excited about it.</p>
<hr/><p>Later, after he leaves the bar, Mark feels the hunger start to throb in his head again. He decides to join one of the packs shambling towards the city, wondering if Taeil will follow. Somewhere inside of him, he knows there is regret and shame and discomfort that tinges his usual sluggishness: killing people regularly will do that, even after death. But his cravings are louder than the remnants of the human emotions he barely remembers, and so he shuffles on.</p>
<hr/><p>Donghyuck hops out of the car, hiking up the strap of his satchel before lurching forward as a weight slams into his back. “Ow, what the fuck,” he whines, turning around to glare at Jeno, who gives him an apologetic eye smile. It’s definitely not Jeno’s fault though. It never is. He redirects his glare to the mop of pink hair he can see over Jeno’s shoulder. Jaemin grins smugly as he winds his arms around Jeno’s waist.</p><p>“Hurry up, brats!” Their annoyingly rigid leader barks. Captain Choi Siwon is a middle-aged man with a stern face and a gun big enough to suggest he’s overcompensating for something, and his derisive comments cause Donghyuck to share a commiserating glance with Renjun as he slams the car door shut, the four of them reluctantly gathering in front of their squad leader.</p><p>“Now this is just going to be a regular pharm salvage,” Mr. Asshole begins, pacing in front of them. He probably thinks he looks cool right now, but Donghyuck really just thinks his stoic spiel is dramatic as hell. They went on this same run just last week, for god’s sake. “This city runs on whatever we can find, and I’ll be damned if we let those undead bastards beat us into extinction. Remember: those freaks out there? They may look like your cousin, or your best friend, or your neighbor, but they can’t feel anything, and they sure as hell aren’t gonna stop before they eat you. Keep your guns aimed and your wits about you. Don’t be a disgrace to our country.” Having said his piece, Choi strides off to talk to the guards manning the gate, ignoring the rest of their team.</p><p>“Or what’s left of it,” Renjun mutters out of the corner of his mouth from where he’s sidled on over to Donghyuck’s side. Jaemin snorts from his other side, but any reply he intended to make is cut off as the gate in the massive wall surrounding their city groans loudly as it opens. The teens all cock their guns in sync as the vast urban hellscape is unveiled in front of them, just as wrecked and grimy as the city they’re leaving.</p><p>“Cute,” Jaemin remarks as he carefully sidesteps the contents of an overflowing dumpster. There’s graffiti barely visible on the rubble beside him. <em>Welcome to the dead zone</em>, it proclaims loudly, surrounded by colorful graffiti tags from whatever unfortunate souls were living here before. They’re all certainly dead now. <em>Look alive out there!</em> There’s nothing moving in Donghyuck’s periphery. Gravel and glass shards crunching beneath their boots are the only sounds he can hear. The area’s clear.</p><p>For now.</p>
<hr/><p>Taeil’s head suddenly snaps to the left. Mark inhales deeply and the hunger gnawing at his stomach bites down hard. He doesn’t know exactly how to describe how people smell to him now, but it’s something that he wouldn’t have been able to pick up back when he was still alive, a fresh sweetness with a seductive promise of bold umami. He can’t help his instinctive refocusing, feet leading him and the rest of the horde to an abandoned hospital. The bitterness of guilt roils in his gut, but Mark lets the overwhelming need to feed take over his movements and darken his pupils, breaking into a sprint with the rest of his group.</p><p>It was always easier to feed when you didn’t have the higher brain function to recognize what you were eating anymore.</p>
<hr/><p>“We should hurry,” Jaemin repeated for the third time in the last ten minutes, his eyes nervously flicking back towards the doorway. “We’ve been in one spot for too long.” The five of them have been cleaning out one of the lab rooms, although anything super useful has long since been scavenged or has expired.</p><p>“Just shut up and toss me anything good you can find,” Donghyuck hisses back, sweeping everything off the counter into his satchel. The abandoned hospital is dark and creaky and he’s twitchy because this is the perfect setup for some kind of disaster. (Although to be fair, their entire life has gotten turned into some kind of B-rated horror movie.)</p><p>A slam echoes from somewhere else in the building, and this time it’s Renjun who stiffens. “We really should go, I don’t have a good feeling about this.”</p><p>Jeno pats him on the butt as he edges past him towards the door, one hand on his holster. “Don’t worry, babe, I’ll cover you.”</p><p>Their leader scoffs from where he’s been leaning against the wall near the door, not doing jack shit to help them get out of here faster. Donghyuck kind of wants to knee him in the balls. “Please, this area’s been clear for the last two years, no way in hell those dead bastards are gon-”</p><p>“WATCH OUT!” Jeno suddenly roars, dropping to one knee and firing a round of bullets as the door abruptly slams open, knocking Choi’s head against the wall. He staggers and tumbles to the ground as he grapples with a corpse. The horde of undead snarl and split up, barely battered by the rain of gunshots. As the glass shatters around them, Donghyuck shoulders his own gun and cocks it at the zombie that’s wrenching Jaemin upright by the neck.</p><p>“Nana, duck!” He shrieks, heart pounding as he aims at his target. Jaemin had wrenched forward just in time, and the no-longer-moving corpse slumps off his back as the pink-haired boy collapses, panting.</p><p>“Hyuck, we gotta go now!” Renjun yells over the dwindling snarls. “Jeno’s out of ammo!” Most of the undead that haven’t fallen have given up on attacking and circle what’s left of Choi, baring their teeth at each other for a portion of the easy kill. Jeno’s managed to drag out Jaemin from under his earlier assailant, and the three of them are now gathered by the door, but there are still two very interested monsters circling Donghyuck. Neither of them are moving particularly fast anymore, wary of the boy and his weapon, but he can tell he’s slowly being cornered.</p><p>“Just run without me! I’ll catch up in a second.” If the other three escape now, they can probably jump down two floors before the majority of the horde is done feeding off Siwon, but if they stay to cover for him, none of them will make it out alive. He risks a glance at his friends, gun still aimed at the two undead on him. Jeno looks conflicted about abandoning him in this state, Jaemin still pale from the close call he just had, but there’s a spark of understanding in Renjun’s eyes that cools down to a rigid determination.</p><p>“We’ll see you back home,” he orders with all the authority of someone who could bend fate to his will. Donghyuck nods, and Renjun turns to gently shove the other two out the doorway in front of them. A slightly crazed grin stretches across Hyuck’s lips, and he refocuses on the moaning corpses in front of him. He’d be lying if he said there wasn’t something thrilling about going head to head with a couple of monsters, trust in his own body loosening up his limbs and relaxing his stance. His heart might be racing, but his mind is as calm as it’s going to get.</p><p>“Alright, let’s deal with you two fuckers!” He immediately downs the zombie on his left with a single shot, but now the undead straight in front of him has had enough time to charge forward, and it’s all Donghyuck can do to keep the creature’s mouth away from his face. “Gross, gross, gross,” he chants as he fumbles at his leg for his throwing knives, elbowing the corpse in the face.</p><p>They continue scrabbling on the ground, rolling and twisting on top of glass shards and pools of zombie gunk, and Donghyuck’s never been more thankful for the wrist guards Jaemin gifted him last year. Finally, he manages to slam the decaying man’s head into the corner of the counter and knife him in the face. “Boom, headshot,” he whispers gleefully in the sudden quiet.</p><p>But the sounds of feeding have quieted from the far side of the room, and the adrenaline running through his veins freezes with the realization that he’s taken too long fighting his assailants off. Choi is barely recognizable anymore, most of him having been chewed off, and one of the zombies crowded around him has turned around and noticed Donghyuck, on his knees and panting, looking very, <em>very</em> much alive.</p><p>Shit.</p><p>This undead had clearly turned when he was still young, but he still looked relatively unmarred, wide-eyed and baby-cheeked like he was an innocent. Wearing a bloodstained blue flannel, jeans, and Converse, he looked like any other teenager, albeit one who had taken up serial killing as a hobby.</p><p>Zombies who had survived a lot of run-ins with humans were riddled with scars and wounds, sometimes missing chunks of flesh or entire limbs, but the monster stumbling Donghyuck’s way could probably have passed as alive if it weren’t for the black veins running up his neck and the ring of decomposing gore around his mouth. In a bout of rising hysteria, he even thinks maybe he’d have been <em>cute</em> at some point in time, with that deer-in-headlights look and a shock of black, messy hair. But this is no time to ruminate on the unique charm of the undead that’s about to <em>eat him get it the fuck together, Lee Donghyuck</em>.</p><p>Donghyuck clambers quickly to his feet, wrenching his knife out of its last victim and dropping into a half-crouch, weapon aimed at the teen corpse. This one’s bound to be fast, as fresh as it looks, and he tightens his trembling grip on his knife. If he takes this one down, he won’t be able to avoid the rest of the horde, and the panic settles stiffly in his limbs now because he has no idea what he should do. One of the undead, a young man in a sweater vest, is already standing again, nose up and sniffing. There’s not much time left until the entire horde notices that there’s still a live human in their midst.</p><p>The creature still making direct eye contact with him keeps slowly staggering forward, forcing Donghyuck back down the aisle. Donghyuck trips backwards over the corpse he had just stabbed, landing hard on his ass, but he continues scooting back, ignoring how glass shards are lacerating the hand he’s propelling himself away with. He’s got nowhere else to go, but the corpse standing in front of him hasn’t tried to charge him yet. Donghyuck’s mild confusion is tamped down by his growing terror as the other reaches one grimy hand out towards him, and he instinctively squeezes his eyes shut as he awaits his end, silently apologizing to his friends for not making it back to base.</p><p>Instead of the grasp of a fist around his throat like he had expected, Donghyuck instead feels something disgustingly slimy slowly stroke down his cheek and flinches, eyes opening reflexively, only to find the face of the dead teen barely an inch away. He recoils again at the gruesome and unexpected sight, banging his head hard against the wall behind him.</p><p>The zombie growls softly as he jerkily thumbs the corner of Donghyuck’s lips, and the human teen is about to throw up. <em>Oh my god Choi’s guts are on my mouth</em>, he thinks hysterically. <em>I’m chugging bleach as soon as I get out of this</em>. He clamps his lips shut while trying desperately to keep his tongue in the back of his mouth and just prays the dead teen isn’t trying to shove his fingers in his mouth.</p><p>Still growling softly, the corpse boy leans into the crook of his neck and inhales deeply before leaning back again to look into Donghyuck’s eyes. “S-safe,” he rasps unevenly, much to Hyuck’s surprise. Is the zombie actually talking? “Ke-keep… you safe…” The corpse continues, still staring almost earnestly into his eyes, and Donghyuck might be going crazy, but he doesn’t think he has any other viable options right now except to trust the boy that clearly isn’t going to eat him anytime soon.</p><p>That doesn’t mean he still isn’t trembling in fear as the zombie tugs his wrist, pulling him up to his feet and nudging him towards the rest of the horde, who has gathered to leave. No one’s giving him a second glance, so the flannel-clad zombie’s scent must be covering his own.</p><p>If Donghyuck doesn’t die, Renjun’s definitely going to kill him.</p>
<hr/><p>Taeil was the first to slam into the room, but Mark isn’t far behind, ducking down as a hail of shots ring out and shatter the window in the door. One of the young humans in the room has remarkable reaction time, but Mark’s sudden drop to the ground lets him notice that there’s a slightly older man slumped near him, eyes out of focus and blood dripping from his temple. He must have been caught by surprise by their attack, but right now, he’s nothing but breakfast for three members of their ravenous horde.</p><p>Mark launches himself forward, still on all fours, teeth bared and shouldering a decaying woman out of the way to be the first to sink his teeth into the man’s throat. Human teeth weren’t designed for tearing people apart, but Mark hits home and can’t stop the moans from rumbling deep in his throat as the man’s blood pools over his jaw.</p><p>The ecstasy of finally satiating his deepset hunger almost whites out his vision, but his pleasure is disrupted as a corpse flies into the wall next to him and crumples to the ground, clearly dead for good, judging from the bullet dead center in his forehead. Shit, there’s still people further back in the room. He watches three younger boys bolt, feeling temporarily full enough to let the guilt seep back in. God, what kind of monster has he become?</p><p>A grunt sounds behind him as someone taps him on the shoulder. He jerks around to see Taeil holding something fleshy out to him. “Hrgh,” the older zombie grumbles, gesturing for Mark to take the bloodstained mass. Mark rasps back in thanks before cramming it into his mouth. Almost immediately, his senses are overwhelmed by vivid, stolen memories.</p><p>Taeil’s saved him a part of the dead man’s brain, the best part. Mark doubles over, weak against remembering things he’s never experienced, the pungent smell of tea leaves and a collected pride racing through his veins, his eyes dilating as he devours the sheer rush of emotion. God, feeding on brains gives him such a high, jumpstarting his deceased neurons into a mockery of true happiness. He pants against the cold linoleum as he fades back into reality, one hand jerkily clenching into a fist against the floor as he staggers up again.</p><p>The others are still devouring what’s left of the man, but he can’t bear to look back in their direction, the forced recollection of emotions pushing shame to the forefront of his mind. He reaches up to smear off some of the viscera caked around his mouth. Unlike most of the others, he still kind of cares about his appearance, trying to wash the visible parts of his skin whenever he can, and he thinks he looks pretty good compared to some of the others he’s met. It’s easier to pretend that he’s not a monster when he still somewhat resembles a living human.</p><p>As he jerkily pats his face down (damn rigor mortis and his lack of fine motor control), a gunshot cracks through the room and he whips around to see another human down another corpse.</p><p>It’s like something out of a damn romance movie.</p><p>Mark hasn’t had the ability to move smoothly in 8 years, but the teen cornered by two, now one, undead moves like a river of molten gold, fluidly dropping his gun and raising an arm to clash with the other zombie now almost directly on top of him. The living male is the most gorgeous creature Mark’s ever seen, plump lips stretched thinly over an adrenaline-shot grin and caramel curls moving in tandem with each shift in his frame as he tussles with the corpse. There’s a lone ray of sunshine that has managed to penetrate through the layered grime on the windows. As the living teen staggers back, Mark can see that his honey-dark skin glistens enticingly in the light, and something in his core stirs in want again despite his lack of hunger.</p><p>From this corner, Mark can only watch in awe as he sweeps a knife out of nowhere to thrust straight into the undead man’s jaw, jamming the blade up into the brain and killing him at last, if the gurgles tapering off are any indication. The boy slumps back onto his haunches, panting, and Mark wonders why he feels some phantom spasms deep in his gut at the shadows of long lashes fluttering across the living teen’s face. Suddenly, he looks up, noticing Mark’s dumbfounded stare.</p><p>His eyes are brown, piercing, and so, <em>so</em> alive. He looks at Mark, and in the split second that their eyes meet, he sees fear, anger, determination, and maybe even a hint of resignation flash through the teen’s expressive gaze. Mark has never seen so many emotions condensed into a single face, a single second, but it sends a dull ache through him. He wants it, desperately. Wants to collect the feelings running through that golden boy, wants to take them and put them in a pocket deep inside his ribcage.</p><p>The boy looks so full of life and vitality that surely even the smallest piece would be enough to jumpstart his cold, unbeating heart. And yet, despite the sheer need roaring in his empty ribcage, he can’t bring himself to taint the vision of beauty sitting paralyzed in front of him. The spark of verve that Mark wants for himself is only so breathtakingly gorgeous because it isn’t his to have, and if he steals this light, it won’t be but mere embers of the blazing fire he sees right now. Mark can’t destroy something so <em>right</em>. He won’t.</p><p>Mark doesn’t want to let <em>anything</em> happen to this boy.</p><p>But his horde behind him is almost done feeding, and soon they, too, will notice the angel sitting in front of him. They, too, will crave that light for themselves. And unlike him, they won’t have the foresight to understand why they cannot at any cost take it from the teen warily staring at him.</p><p>So, with an apology on his bloodstained lips, Mark reaches out a trembling hand to caress the boy’s sunkissed face, smearing his black ichor and residue from the entrails he just devoured under his fingertips. His scent, along with the coppery memories of the hunt, should be enough to hide the human’s tantalizing smell for now, at least until he can think of a better idea. Mark watches, fascinated, by the trail of burgundy streaking down the cringing boy’s face, as he gently thumbs down his cheek towards those plush, tempting lips. Despite barely having a sense of touch left, Mark wants to know if they feel as inviting as they look, but the boy’s making a disgusted face now, and he remembers what exactly he’s been smearing on his skin.</p><p>Oh shit, he hasn’t even tried to explain what he’s doing yet, has he? The boy probably thinks he’s still going to eat him. Mark tips forward abruptly, unable to move smoothly as he takes a jagged breath of the boy’s collarbone. This close, his nose is flooded with sun-kissed bergamot and crushed lavender, but underneath are those burnt-sugar notes that flaunt his humanity. Luckily, Mark’s not planning on letting anyone get that close. He leans away again, slight disappointment at the smell fading from his senses, and pretends not to notice the human teen’s shakily relieved exhale.</p><p>Mark needs to talk to the boy now, before his horde finishes up. “S-safe,” he rasps unevenly, a little current of pride running through him when the boy’s eyes widen in comprehension. “Ke-keep… you safe…” There, that’s about as much as he can say for now, but luckily it looks like he understands.</p><p>Mark hears a growl from the other side of the room, probably Taeil, and the answering shuffles of the horde preparing to leave. He clumsily stands up, making sure to pull at the boy’s wrist so he knows, and he feels another small spike of thrill when he touches the other teen’s soft skin. They’re both stuck with the horde until they get back, but he’ll try to figure out how to smuggle the other boy out alone later.</p><p>They’re alright for now, at least, and Mark will quietly enjoy warming himself near the human boy’s fiery glow, even if it scorches him to a crisp.</p>
<hr/><p>They’ve been stumbling along for an hour now, at least, and Donghyuck has never been this far from the city before. None of the other corpses besides the one in the blue flannel that had marked him have paid him a lick of attention, but his spine is still stiff from the adrenaline, and he knows he isn’t having any problems passing as a zombie right now.</p><p>They’ve reached the old airport, one of the first locations to fall in the aftermath of the Awakening. Places like these, where large amounts of people mingled and infection spread, were difficult enough to contain that no one ever bothered looking for potential survivors. Within a year, the untainted few from across the state were ordered to relocate as far from the overrun areas as possible.</p><p>Donghyuck remembers learning about these airplanes in school, but visuals in old pixelated documentaries and blurry memories of pre-apocalyptic toys are no substitute for the actual sight itself. He can’t stop himself from craning to look out the grimy windows of the waiting area, even as his knees quiver from being surrounded by <em>so many</em> walking corpses.</p><p>Before he knows it, the hesitant hand at his back is leading Donghyuck out of the airport and onto the tarmac, towards one of the massive behemoths themselves. There’s a voice at the back of his head that insists this zombie is no different from the rest and he’s just saving Donghyuck for a snack later, but there’s absolutely no way to escape the airport at this point, not with all the corpses teeming aimlessly around and his scent. It’s okay, he reassures himself. He has his knives.</p>
<hr/><p>Mark is having a crisis. Taeil had wandered off with just one look at Mark’s hand on the new boy’s shoulder, probably assuming that he would help him settle in. Not that there was much to settle in <em>to</em>, but the intent was there.</p><p>Mark cautiously shuffles closer to the boy in front of him, herding him past the security guard blankly waving a metal detector, as he’s done every other day for as long as he can remember. His scent shouldn’t have worn off the other boy yet, but when the guard slowly turns his head past what should be humanly possible to follow their footsteps, he’s never been more thankful that his dead heart can’t beat in panic.</p><p>What was he thinking? Taking a human home with him like this, as if Mark is still alive, as if this is just another twisted way of meeting the family, like a new boyfriend or something. Really, if Mark was still capable of blushing, he’d be red to the tips of his ears. But there’s no blood flow left in Mark’s system, and his thoughts might be whirling, but his heart is most certainly dead.</p><p>They make it out onto the runway unscathed, and Mark reluctantly keeps his distance again. He can tell fear is starting to settle into the trembling of the other boy’s shoulders as adrenaline runs out, but he hopes they can at least make it onto the plane before anything else happens.</p>
<hr/><p>The huge plane is grimy, covered in layers of dust from being grounded all these years, and the interior is no different. Donghyuck collapses into a dusty blue seat halfway down the body of the plane, the events of the last couple hours finally sinking into his brain. Oh god, he just got kidnapped by a zombie and Renjun is going to murder him for never making it back to base. He’s also <em>alone</em> now with said zombie, who may or may not still eat him. What if he never sees his friends again? What if he dies out here, just like that? The panic claws its way into every corner of his brain until he’s shaking in his seat and his eyes glaze over, thin t-shirt soaking through with sweat. He’s broken out of the white terror rising in his mind when he registers a movement in the corner of his eye and reflexively whips a knife out of his boot, flinging it straight into Mark’s chest.</p><p>The zombie stops, arms still slightly outstretched, to stare at the blade now embedded solidly in his chest after slashing a hole through the blanket he had been offering.</p><p>“Oh my god I’m so sorry,” Donghyuck blurts out, reaching out absently through the hole in the blanket to tug his knife out of the zombie’s chest. As the shredded quilt gets dropped clumsily into his lap, Donghyuck gets a closer look at the creature that has either saved his life or damned him to tomorrow’s dinner. And <em>shit</em>, that’s not even something he had thought of until now.</p><p>Had this zombie brought him back as fresh food? An easy, satiating supply of nutrition that couldn’t run away now that they were in corpse central?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>long time no see, everyone. (just kidding, it's been like 2 months at most.) i've been busy and have also been going through one of the worst periods of writer's block i've ever experienced, so since all my works are languishing right now, i thought i'd clean out my drafts a little bit. i hope i'll be able to post more soon! wish me luck hehe</p><p><a href="https://twitter.com/hurricane_ivy">twt</a> | <a href="https://curiouscat.me/hurricane_ivy">cc</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>